


Passing Sentinel

by CorsetJinx



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Selectively Mute Hunter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 09:28:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8200097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsetJinx/pseuds/CorsetJinx
Summary: Silence is not common in Yharnam. It is usually a sign of death - for what else can be left behind if the beasts do not growl, the wardens not speak their addled minds?





	

The window is protected by heavy bars of iron just like every other one that the Hunter has set eyes on within the city, hiding whoever remains inside hidden from view by heavy-looking white curtains. Golden light shines out however, implying that whoever fortunate - or unfortunate - enough to be inside is not yet asleep. A lantern is propped by the window with a sturdy length of chain - the links winding through the bars covering the glass in a manner that suggests haste.

Whoever did it may have only wanted the job done - quick enough to get back inside before the sun dipped below the horizon.

Smoke from the incense rolls out from the lantern slowly, turning the immediate area soft with haze. Faintly sweet.

Reaching between the bars the Hunter raps once on the glass, blunt end of of the sawblade providing the necessary reach where their arm would otherwise fail. The sound is somewhat harsh to the ears, probably startling the person inside.

There’s an intake of breath, sure enough.

“Who’s there?” A girl’s voice asks. “What do you want?”

The Hunter says nothing, watching the fabric of the curtain for any sign of movement. A glance around the area confirms that no one else walks this part of the street just yet. Presumably, no beast can come near while the lantern has incense - which is something. Perhaps.

“This smell…” A rustle comes from inside, drawing the Hunter’s gaze back towards the window. “I know it. You must be… a Hunter?”

Silence stretches out and they remain quiet rather than answer, leather of their garb creaking faintly as they shifted.

“Can you not talk?” Curiosity seems to overcome the girl’s initial wariness, her tone lifting as she speaks. “I’m sorry for being rude before… my father’s a hunter too and he says not to let anyone in until he comes home.”

_Understandable_ , the Hunter thinks.

“Are you a Hunter, sir? Or miss?” Another rustle, possibly the girl adjusting herself to be closer to the window. “Please tap the window - once for yes, twice for no.”

The sawblade taps the glass once, gentle this time. As much as the Hunter can make it.

“You are a hunter!” Joy suffuses the lass’ voice, an echo of laughter not far behind. It’s a sound that’s unfamiliar to the Hunter’s ears - innocent and all the more refreshing for it.

“My father’s gone off to join the Hunt, but he hasn’t come back… Mother went to go and find him - because sometimes daddy forgets…” The girl trails off there, tone wavering. There’s sadness in it.

The Hunter waits, able to make out the vague shape of a person shifting their weight behind the curtain.

“Would you… would be willing to look for them for me?” Gathering her courage, the girl lifts her voice again. “I’m not supposed to go outside but I’m worried about my parents. Please, if you can just find any sign of them - I…”

A moment of quiet passes. The shadow behind the curtain moves away for a second before coming back, closer than before.

“If you would, I would be most grateful. I can give you a music box to help. Mother usually takes it with her, to help daddy remember us when he forgets.”

Metal, scarred and wrapped in soiled bandages, taps the glass one more time before retreating.

The little girl’s relief is almost a palpable thing, separated as they are by stone, glass and metal.

“Thank you, thank you, kind Hunter. Please tell daddy that we’re waiting for him - mother too if you find her!”

The girl’s shadow moves, dipping almost out of sight before a shaky creak insinuates itself in the air as the window’s frame moves. The Hunter waits, watching as the pane is carefully pushed up enough to make room for a small, thin arm.

Warm air penetrates the chill for a brief moment and the Hunter catches the scent of woodsmoke and ladies’ perfume. The child’s arm is almost swimming in the sleeve of a nightgown, cloth a pristine white that looks out of place against the beaten stone of the house.

In the girl’s hand rests a music box, just large enough to be slightly unwieldy in her palm.

She doesn’t jerk back when the leather of their glove brushes her hand as they take the music box, only drawing back and closing the window once the instrument is slipped into a pocket of their coat.

“Oh! I almost forgot - my mother wears a brooch with a red stone in it. It’s so large and pretty… you’ll have no trouble seeing it! She wears it always, because father gave it to her.”

The Hunter stretches, paying no mind to the bars and rests a gloved palm against the glass to show they’ve heard. After a moment, a giggle reaches their ears.

“Thank you again, kind Hunter.” The girl’s voice is soft. Delighted even. “I’ll wait right here for you to come back, I promise!”


End file.
